They have been on the trail for more than an hour, drinking plenty of water and eating snacks while on the go, and they are all looking forward to reaching the secret and mysterious destination Gale has in mind.
The smell of the place is magnificent, Hewitt thinks, the air so clean and the pine strong but not overpowering. The evening rain from the day before has still left the ground sodden in places and the scent of wet earth only adds to the beauty of it.
Gale had started the morning reiterating to them that this trip was going to be about taking them to simpler times and a world that made more sense. Being out here in the woods with him, not a single argument could be made against the value of that plan.
The sun has only barely started to peek its way over the mountainous horizon as they reach their destination, devouring some of the shadows and enhancing others in the process.
Ahead is a clearing with spring flowers in yellows, purples, and reds dotting the greenery and a pool of the cleanest water Hewitt has ever seen outside of professional nature photos. Stream fed, he sees the downstream waters disappearing into a dense copse of trees.
“This is one of the literally dozens of streams that feed into the river you crossed a couple of times on your way into town,” Gale explains, catching where Hewitt’s attention is fixed.
“I don’t know that I’d call it a river,” he replies, smiling.
“Give it time,” Gale says. “There’s still plenty of snow to melt at the higher elevations as it gets warmer, and early summer can bring a lot of rain to the region.”
Hewitt nods, only halfway paying attention to what Gale’s saying, silently taking in the beauty of the glade. Mariah approaches Hewitt from behind, hooking her left arm around him and leaning her head against his upper arm. “It’s beautiful, Gale,” She says.
“Yes it is,” he replies without hesitation. “And, the best part is that it is hardly touched by people. I found this little glade a couple of years back and I’ve never seen a sign that anyone else has ever disturbed this place since then. Naturally, it helps that the trail begins at the edge of my property.”
His words lead to the rest of them taking in the surroundings with a little more eye for detail and even Mariah, the most avid hunter of the group, can’t find any obvious indication that anyone else had ever been there before this very moment.
Knowing that Gale has made this trek, and probably many others, over the years he’s lived there certainly helps them to understand why he looks so much healthier. Nature and the outdoors had done him a great deal of good, especially combined with the room in his house dedicated to well-used exercise equipment.
“Well, let’s unpack and catch some fish,” Gale says, smiling like a little boy.
They unpack the gear Gale had prepared for the adventure and the day of fun and relaxation gets started.
The fish aren’t all too interested in biting, though they can be seen flitting about beneath the surface of the pool. The friends aren’t all too interested in actually catching the fish either. The purpose of the fishing trip isn’t to catch anything so much as to enjoy the beautiful day, to take in the peace of the location, and to share each other’s company.
Lunch was prepared in advance and hauled out with them and they eat their meal sitting on exposed stones at the pond’s edge with their feet dangling above the water, Mariah going one step further and trailing her bare toes throughout the cold mountain water.
As much as none of them want to leave, in late afternoon they make the return hike back down to Gale’s house with less urgency than their trip up the mountain had involved.
Across the board, everyone is not only content but invigorated by the first day of their shared vacation.
Gale is satisfied with himself and the twinkling in his eyes accompanies the youthful smile on his face. The success he perceives the day as having been, he considers silently, is only the beginning. It’s only going to be getting better from here. The journey of bonding and self-discovery has only just started. His friends, blissful and happy, have no idea what remains ahead of them.
11
Deputy Albert Weber glances up from the crossword he’s filling out as he hears the crash of thunder resonating all through the valley and the ground shakes just enough for him to feel it. This, he can tell, is going to be a real storm, unlike the short-lived rain the night before. He’d suspected as much as he watched the angry clouds roll in over the town while he had driven a final patrol through the streets near dusk.
He’s only two days from the end of his week-long stint staying at the Emergency Services Building in town, and he almost dreads heading back down in elevation and returning to work again. The rotating shifts spent here have always felt like a mini-vacation of sorts, time for relaxing and woolgathering, maybe catching up on reading in the process. Mostly he’s been reading.
Nothing eventful ever happened in this town. It was a sweet deal, being paid his normal salary to do little more than chat with the locals he’s gotten to know over the years and enjoying the fresh mountain air. The people who traditionally kept him company during these shifts haven’t been so personable during this interval, but he figures it’s some late-season cold or flu keeping them at home. People are never the most sociable when they’re under the weather, he knows he certainly isn’t. Besides, the storm probably spells the end to any real chance for socializing during the remainder of his time on shift.
The weather radar he pulls up shows a large mass of clouds clustering just up North in Canada and slowly encroaching on the Rockies. He’s used to the weather this time of year and he figures they’re in for a couple of days of everything being wet. At least it doesn’t look like snow in the forecast, he thinks, though he’s sure there’s probably going to be a fresh white coat on the peaks in view if he takes a look in the morning. It could stay raining at the higher elevations, but he doubts it at this time of year.
Loud as it is, the thunder never manages to fully awaken Hewitt where he lays on his side, his right arm loosely draped over Mariah’s hip. The day had taken such a sufficient toll on him that he fell asleep without any trouble. A dreamless night provides him with much-needed rest.
They’re all too tired to do more than approach the tenuous edges of wakefulness in response to the crashes and rumblings outside. No one tucked comfortably in bed at Gale’s house even registers that a storm has come.
As dawn makes its feeble attempt to lighten the sky, the rain continues unabated, the clouds seeming content to remain where they are.
12
Sarah's bare feet slap painfully against the wet asphalt as she runs without any destination in mind. If she had her wits about her, she might attempt to make her way across town to the Emergency Services building where there's sure to be a Sherriff's Deputy present. In school, she'd had a tour of the building last year and she knew someone from the Sheriff’s Department is always there. For the moment, she's just trying to stay ahead of her step-father and step-brother.
If she'd taken her melatonin before bed, she might not have woken up to the meaty thud of the tire iron against her older sister's head. The unfamiliar noise pulled her from the edge of sleep and she sat up in bed, staring through the dim light intruding from the doorway, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
She opened her eyes to a silhouette looming over the bed across the room. Uncertain what the noise might have been, she begins to speak just as the silhouette raised its arm, the shape extending beyond what should be the normal length, brushing almost against the ceiling.
"Daddy, is that you?"
The limb descended rapidly, no indication that her step-father might have heard her question.
The wet, splintering pop of the second blow startled Sarah enough that she frantically tucked herself up against her headboard, pulling her nightgown down to cover her bare legs.
Her step-father turned towards her then and in the faint light she could make out a strange smile on his face as he tucked his
right arm behind his back. She recognized him, but she didn't at the same time. Whoever this was, she knew, it wasn't really her step-father.
His voice sounded like it always did when he was trying to make believe that he wasn't angry about something. "Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing awake? You were supposed to be asleep like your sister."
"The noise woke me up," she said.
He approached her bed slowly.
A sudden clattering cacophony arose from downstairs and her mother screamed. "Angela, Sarah, get out of the ho-!"
The final word was cut off by a new burst of noise from what might have been the kitchen.
Sarah didn't wait. She was up and out of her bed before her step-father could bring the tire iron out from behind his back.
She was through the door and down the stairs in only a couple of seconds. She didn't take the time to look through the archway into the kitchen, where her mother lay bleeding on the floor, her body convulsing as her step-brother forcefully dragged the blade of a kitchen knife along the now exposed spine near the base of her skull.
She might have stopped if she'd taken even a moment to glance in there.
She fumbled with the lock for just a moment before opening the front door and bursting into the rainy night outside.
Her step-brother's scream echoing after her, "Get back here, you little bitch!"
She hasn't stopped running since then, her feet in agony and her lungs burning after only a couple of blocks. Over the sound of the rain and the intermittent thunder she can hear her step-brother catching up to her. To her left, a woman watches through her window, making momentary eye contact with Sarah just as her pursuer catches her.
He barrels into her from behind, knocking her against the pavement, shattering two of her teeth and crumpling up her nose. The breath left in her lungs explodes out and as she tries to breathe in she swallows a mouthful of rain and blood, gagging and choking on a piece of tooth that catches on her tonsils.
By the time her step-brother gets off of her, his father has caught up with them and they begin dragging her back toward the house, each taking her by a leg.
She stares hopelessly up at the house along the street where she'd fallen but the woman standing at the window pulls the curtain closed, leaving Sarah with no one to save her.
13
“It always rains pretty steadily this time of year,” Gale says, gazing out the window. “It could be on-and-off or it could rain straight through for the next week or two.”
Hewitt turns to look at him, “You could have timed this a bit better. Outdoor activities are clearly off the table under these conditions.”
“The timing is what it is. The weather wasn’t my primary concern, it was the anniversary that mattered.”
“You’re right,” Hewitt says. “Gloomy does seem fitting in its own way.”
The two of them continue watching the storm building up outside in silence. Floor to ceiling windows presents them both with a spectacular view even with the rain and low-hanging clouds obscuring the mountains to the East.
Mariah is the only other one already awake and she beat Hewitt to the guest shower.
“It’s beautiful out there,” she announces as she enters the den, drying her hair with a towel.
Gale nods in response without saying a word.
Mariah shoves Hewitt’s knee from where it had been resting on the loveseat cushion next to where he’s sitting and lowers herself down. He absently puts his arm around her and pulls her slightly closer.
“We’ll need all of this rain, all of it we can get,” Gale says after a long interval of silence. “It gets damn dry around here as summer stretches on. Fire is always a serious possibility and a huge threat.”
Hewitt smiles. “Let it rain then.”
The sound of droplets hitting the glass and ceiling becomes almost hypnotic for the three of them as time passes by, barely noticed.
Gradually Ben, then Abraham, followed by Kateb and Miles make their way from where they were sleeping to the den as well. The rain appears to have a similar soothing effect on all of them as no one appears interested in prolonged conversation or breaking the silence beyond small niceties.
Indifferent to the witnesses inside, the rain falls harder as the day passes.
Clouds build up and prepare to unleash their burden throughout the day.
Gale and Abraham go overboard with the late breakfast, preparing more food than the seven of them can finish, though they do get closer to accomplishing that goal than any of them would have expected.
Friendship and familiarity increase the appetite as much as the recent travel consisting of long days and nights followed by the late-night spent catching up.
With the rain likely to continue, plans to hike the neighboring mountain forests are shelved and a game of Cards Against Humanity is tossed into the mix.
Knowing his friends as he does, Abraham is initially resistant to playing that particular game with his son present.
Ben insists that he’s seen worse and heard much worse, including other people playing the same game or others like it while he watched videos on YouTube.
With exaggerated resignation, Abraham finally shrugs and concedes Ben’s victory.
Soon enough there are tears of laughter in his eyes and his cheeks feel cramped from the strain the smile is putting on the muscles of his face.
Heavy rains lead to hope for the farmers at lower elevations, hope that the drought of the previous three years might be over as the Farmer’s Almanac seemed to claim it would be.
At higher elevations, areas like the valley where the town nestles itself between rising peaks, the rainfall combines with early snowmelt to feed into the numerous streams and rivers.
Every few years it seems to happen like this. The river strains to overflow its banks, threatening to cover the single road out of town, the sole means of reaching the rest of civilization. Less frequently, any local could verify, the flooding gets so severe that it overflows the road entirely.
Unfortunately for the group of friends gathered together, most of whom have responsibilities out there in the wider world, this storm is contributing to one of those more rare occasions. If the road goes out, it’s likely the phone lines will be taken down as well, running, as they do, alongside that path.
The power lines are less susceptible, following their path into town, a cleared path through the otherwise dense trees from the nearest substation.
14
Lights flicker intermittently throughout the town as the storm grows stronger and the lightning more frequent.
The lawns become saturated and the roads act as aqueducts, carrying water away from the surface and toward drains that empty into the river. Only during times like this does the river manage to live up to its name rather than being the creek the visitors had crossed over twice on their way into town a couple of days before.
Already swollen with the late spring snowmelt, the river expands beyond its banks and churns away at soil along the way, loosening rocks and roots from where they were embedded.
It isn’t long before the road is beneath the water at both of the points where it crosses over the normally peaceful stream. Debris collides with the upstream of the two bridges, gradually accumulating into a dam of sorts, forcing the water to lash at the bridge in ways it wasn’t designed to withstand.
Still, it holds up against the abuse.
Both bridges are underwater within the first 24 hours of the torrential rain reaching its high point. Within 48 hours, the road itself, where there is any sort of trough in place, is similarly submerged. The space between bridges is soon mostly underwater.
The asphalt itself, as well as the bridges, remain mostly structurally sound, but any attempt to traverse that single route from the mountain valley to the outside world would be unsafe if not outright impossible.
It is one of the residents of the town who discovers the condition of the road as he is heading South to Coeur D’Alene to meet his
ex-wife and to pick up his daughter for the summer.
Intent as he is to get through the waters, he almost gets swept off the side of the road from the current and as he attempts to safely back away to higher ground, his truck only narrowly avoids being sideswiped by a sizable tree that had either been uprooted or picked up from where it had previously fallen.
If he hadn’t started reversing when he did, there would have been an impact.
His heart is racing from the experience, but what he feels is anger rather than fear.
Anger that he hadn’t gotten out of town sooner.
Anger that he isn’t going to meet his bitch of an ex-wife and will likely never hear the end of how he disappointed their daughter. This would be just another thing for her to hold over his head.
Mostly he is angry that he will be stuck in town, separated from his daughter, the only family he cares to see.
He is still stewing in his feelings when he stops in at the gas station to warn the idiot behind the counter that the road is out.
His emotional state hasn’t improved when he stops in at the Emergency Services building that doubles as a volunteer fire station and County Sheriff’s outpost.
Deputy Albert Weber sits behind the front desk, watching as the drenched man slams open the door with apparent irritation.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his tone of voice not masking the annoyance he feels.
“Fucking road’s flooded out before the bridge!” the man responds. The man’s glare and attitude are pushing all the wrong buttons for the deputy, who is just now finding out that he won’t be looking forward to being relieved in about 48 hours as he’d been expecting.
“And you expect me to do what, exactly?”
The man pauses for a moment, exhaling with a derisive huff. “I don’t fucking know! Call someone! Get help out here, and get up off your ass!”
Innocence Ends Page 4
